


Think

by flinchflower



Series: The 50kinkyways [38]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Shaving, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-24
Updated: 2011-09-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:18:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 37: Shaving. Sam’s impending migraine gives him an excuse to prepare to exploit yet another of Dean’s Kinks. Mention of Missouri Mosley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Think

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed the characters originally so I could use them as a writing exercise, to see how close I could get the characterization. Then I was corrupted by porn. And kink. Here’s a side of kink. This is simply for practice, not publication or profit. I’m in the hole by about 30 grand, if you’d like to seize my debt as punishment. AU in that I refuse to admit the death of John Winchester.

Sam doesn’t get a chance to surprise Dean very often, so he’s been sort of smug. It’s hard to hide it, really, and Dean probably knows that he’s up to something, but it doesn’t matter. The end result will be pleasing. Despite the oncoming headache, he volunteers to walk the three blocks from the motel to the drugstore, telling Dean that he wants something specific, but can’t remember the name of it. Dean had sighed, given him the patented big brother look, scribbled a few items they needed in the way of first aid supplies onto the motel pad. He’d also stopped Sam, and had him change into the yuppie LL Bean clothes they kept for when they were trying to pass themselves off as campers. Sam had protested, Dean had swatted, but at least Sam was striding down the street on his own, even if he felt like an ass in cargo pants and a sweater.

Dean plotted, left on his own. He hated werewolf hunts, there was always a lot of downtime, and inevitably one of them got scratched to hell in the woods. At least Sam would be able to ride out the migraine safely. Experience told him that it would be about two hours before Sam went to his knees with the pain of it, unless whatever it was he was looking for had miraculous properties to it. He debated to himself for a few minutes, left a note, and went the other direction down the street to the mom & pop grocery store. He might be able to get Sam to eat some fruit, maybe some pudding if he was lucky.

Sam was pleased with his luck, finding Dean’s note when he got back. He left the first aid supplies on the table next to the kit Dean had been checking over, and headed into the shower after popping a couple of the pills – some new thing Advil dreamed up, please God let it work, because the Excedrin never has. He made sure to bury the packaging for the safety razors under the rest of the trash. Sighing to himself under the warm water, he cleaned up, and then lathered up the extra bar of soap he’d bought. It would have been nice to do this without the pounding headache, but the hot water did make him feel a little better. He was pleased that he managed to shave the entirety of his privates without nicking himself, and enjoyed the unscented lotion he rubbed into himself after, even if he didn’t get off. His head hurt too much for that. He could hear Dean rummaging around in the room outside, and climbed into the soft sweatsuit, starting to feel a little queasy. He needed to lie down and try to sleep before the worst of it hit.

Steam billowed into the room with Sam, and Dean tried not to smile – that was one marathon shower, even for Sam. The kid kind of oozed onto the bed, where Dean had tossed a couple fleece blankets. The older boy sat down gently next to him, and proffered a bowl.

“Just try, ok? You take something?”

“Yeah.”

“Sit up. You need something on your stomach other than all that crap.” He carefully laid a hand on the back of Sam’s neck, watching to see if the boy flinched – his skin got way sensitive with the migraines.

“Dean, I’m not-“

“I don’t care if your hungry or not. You try one of everything, and I’ll call it good.” The bowl was full of cut up fruits and vegetables, and there were some cubes of heavy bread on the edges.

“Dean.”

“Don’t make me spank you,” he says, voice light.

Sam’s appreciative enough of the thoughtfulness, and feels horrible enough to not want a spanking, so he takes a bite. Dean lightly massages the boy’s neck, trying to take away some of the tension that he knows contributes to the migraines. He reaches around and puts a bottle of water in the boy’s lap, pleased when he drinks most of it. Dean watches as he eats all of the cucumbers and grapefruit slices, makes a note of it. Missouri’s suggestion for what to feed him had been good, then, and Dean would begin making a mental list for the future, because the migraines weren’t going to vanish any time soon.

He just can’t eat anything more, gags on the piece of bread that he wanted to eat, but his body won’t let him, and Dean removes the bowl wordlessly, puts a bottle of water between the pillows. The headache is hitting in full, dammit.

“Just lay down, baby.”

Sam obeys, not really hearing what Dean’s saying – usually the word ‘baby’ only gets used when Sam’s collared and can’t protest. Dean covers him up, and cranks the thermostat – Sam’s headaches ease with warmth, and he gets a warm washcloth to lay on the back of the kid’s neck. He lays back next to him, and soothes the boy into sleep. Sam’s thinking is fuzzy, with the headache, but he responds to the gentle touch, and snuggles into Dean, who rolls his eyes, but allows it. He’s not into the snuggling thing, but anything that will get Sam relaxed will help make sure he doesn’t wake with the damn headache.

It pays off this time, too, and Missouri was right about the food, because Sam’s laying there blinking six hours later, doesn’t look like he’s in pain at all, and hasn’t bolted to go vomit.

“Dean?” His voice is fuzzy.

“Here.” He hands Sam a bottle of water. “Finish it.” The kid frowns, then gets a load of the look on Dean’s face. He’s woken up with a bit of a stiffy, and starting out by being a brat isn’t going to get him where he wants to go. He feels better after he finishes drinking though, and gives Dean a goofy grin. Dean ruffles his hair and starts to get up, and Sam feels even better when he surprises the older boy by pulling him back down, and kissing him.

Dean pulls back and looks into Sam’s eyes.

“Headache isn’t gone, is it.”

Sam gives him a grin. “Mostly. You remember what the doc said – needs some kind of release to kill it all the way,” he says with a leer. Dean laughs for a minute, then strips off his shirt, flattens himself on top of the boy.

“One release, coming right up – oh, you’re up already, I see,” he teases, feeling Sam’s hard on.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Dean’s happy to oblige. His own nap was filled with all sorts of thoughts and snippets of dreams about Sam and blow jobs, and he’s never one to turn down sex. Then he remembers that the lube is nowhere near the bed.

“Hang on there.” He levers himself out, and rummages in a bag. Sam takes the opportunity to strip, and slide between the sheets on the bed, setting the fleeces aside so they don’t have to wash them again. Dean frowns at him briefly, then slides in next to him, figuring Sam’s just trying to baby the last of the headache along, keeping warm. He’s naked now too, and slides back on top of Sam. Then he blinks in surprise.

Sam’s shy smile is all the confirmation he needs.

“You little shit. You shaved. How did you find that one out?”


End file.
